Julian assumed the shape of a small marmot, moving in close to the house. He kept a watchful eye out for owls as he approached the front porch. He heard them then. Four voices murmuring softly from within the house. Although he was young, Julian had the incredible hearing of the Carpathian people. He used that acute hearing, determined to get every word. The four greatest Carpathians alive were in that house, and he would not miss the event. He was barely aware of Dimitri joining him.
“You have no choice, Mikhail,” a soft voice said. The voice was incredible, pure velvet, commanding yet gentle. “You must assume the mantle of authority. The bloodline dictates it. Your father had a foreshadowing of his own death, and his instructions were clear. You must assume leadership. Gregori will help you in this time of great need, and we will do the job your father asked of us. But the mantle of authority does not belong to our bloodline. It is yours.”
“You are an ancient, Lucian. One of you should rule our people. We are so few, our women lost to us, our children gone. Without women, what are our males to do?” Julian recognized Mikhail’s voice. “They have no choice but to seek the dawn or become the undead. God knows, we already have enough of them doing that. I have not yet acquired the wisdom to lead our people in a time of such great need.”
“You have the blood and the power, and, most of all, our people believe in you. They fear us, our power and knowledge and all that we stand for.” Lucian’s voice was beautiful, compelling. Julian loved the sound of that voice, could listen to it for all time. It was no wonder the adults were afraid of his power. Even at Julian’s young age he recognized the voice as a weapon. And Lucian was simply talking normally. What would it be like if he wished to take command of those around him? Who would be able to resist such a voice?
“We give you our allegiance, Mikhail, as we did your father, and we will provide you with whatever knowledge we can to aid you in your difficult task. Gregori, we know you as a great hunter already. Is your tie to Mikhail strong enough to see you through the dark days to come?” Lucian’s voice, although as soft as ever, demanded truth.
Julian held his breath. Gregori was blood kin to Gabriel and Lucian.
The Dark Ones
. Those of that bloodline were always the defenders of their race, the ones who brought the undead to justice. Gregori was already powerful in his own right. It didn’t seem possible that he could be compelled to answer, yet he did.
“As long as Mikhail lives, so do I, that I may provide for his safety and that of his line.”
“You will serve our people, Mikhail, and our brother will serve you as we did your father. It is right. Gabriel and I will continue the fight to defeat the stranglehold the undead have on the humans and our own race.”
“There are so many,” Mikhail observed.
“There is, indeed, much death, much fighting, and our women have been all but stamped out. The males need hope for a future, Mikhail. You must find a way to provide them with one, or they will have no reason to hold out when the darkness stretches on. We must have females to provide our males with lifemates. Our women are the light to our darkness. Our males are predatory, dark, dangerous hunters, growing more deadly as the centuries pass. Eventually, if we cannot find lifemates, all will turn from Carpathian to vampire, and our race will become extinct as the males give up their souls. There will be devastation such as we cannot imagine. Preventing that is your task, Mikhail, and it is a monumental one.”
“As is yours,” Mikhail said softly. “To take so many lives and stay as one of us is no small thing. Our people have much to thank you for.”
Julian, within the body of the marmot, scampered back into the bushes, not wanting to be caught by the ancients. There was a rustle in the bushes behind him, and he turned. Two tall men were standing there in complete silence. Their eyes were dark and empty, their faces as still as if carved in stone. Around him a mist seemed to fall from the sky, leaving, him and Dimitri in a stunned heap. Julian caught his breath and stared in astonishment. Gregori materialized just slightly in front of the two boys, almost protectively. When Julian moved his head to look around him, the mythical hunters were gone as if they’d never been, and the boys were left to face Gregori.
*****
Lucian France, 1500
The sun faded from the sky, leaving behind brilliant colors. Those colors slowly yielded to the charcoal of the night. Beneath the earth a single heart began to beat. Lucian lay in the rich, healing soil. His wounds from the last terrible battle were healed. He mentally scanned the area around his resting place, noting only the movement of animals. Dirt spewed upward as he burst from the earth into the sky, drawing in air to breathe. His world would be changed this night for all time. Gabriel and Lucian were identical twins. They looked alike, thought alike, fought alike. Over the centuries they had acquired knowledge in all areas and subjects and shared that knowledge with each other.
All Carpathian males as they grew older lost their emotions and the ability to see colors, leaving them in a dark, bleak world where only their sense of loyalty and honor kept them from turning vampire while they waited for a lifemate. Gabriel and Lucian had made a pact with each other. If one were to turn vampire, the other would hunt and destroy his twin before facing the dawn—and his own destruction. Lucian had known for some time that Gabriel was wrestling his inner demon, consumed by the darkness spreading within him. The constant battles had taken their toll. Gabriel was far too close to turning.
Lucian inhaled deeply, taking in the clear night air. He was determined to keep Gabriel alive, to keep his soul safe. There was one way to do so. If he could convince Gabriel that
he
had joined the ranks of the undead, Gabriel could do no other than hunt him. That would prevent Gabriel from battling any other than Lucian. By being unable to kill, due to their equal powers, and by having a purpose, Gabriel would be able to hold on. Lucian took to the air, searching for his first victim.
*****
Lucian London, 1600
The young woman stood on the street corner, her smile painted on. The night was cold and dark. She was shivering. Somewhere in the darkness was a killer. He had already murdered two of the women she knew. She had begged Thomas not to send her out tonight, but he had slapped her several times before pushing her out the door. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried desperately to look as if she enjoyed what she was doing.
A man was coming up the street. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to pound. He wore a dark coat and top hat and carried a cane. He looked to be from the upper class, slumming in her part of town. She struck a pose and waited. He walked right past her. She knew Thomas would beat her if she didn’t call out, try to entice this stranger to her, but she couldn’t make herself do it.
The man paused and turned. He circled her slowly, looking her up and down as if she were a piece of meat.
She tried to smile at him, but something about him frightened her. He pulled out a handful of money and waved it at her. His smile was taunting. He knew she was frightened. He pointed with his cane toward the alley.
She went. She knew better, but she was just as afraid of going home to Thomas without money as she was of going into the alley with the stranger.
He was ruthless, forcing her to perform all kinds of acts right there in the alley. He hurt her deliberately, and she endured it because she had no other choice. When he was finished, he shoved her to the ground and kicked her with one elegant shoe. She looked up to see the straight razor in his hand and knew he was the killer. There was no time to scream. She was about to die.